Woman in Black

Minuites later, they were receding across the Causeway. smaller and smaller figures in the immensity and wideness of the marsh and sky.

Even though Keckwick is a tight-lipped kind of fellow, it must still be hard on Arthur to see him go. He's another normal living soul, after all.

But for today I had had enough. Enough of solitude and no sound save the water and the moaning wind and the melancholy calls of the birds, enough of monotonous grayness, enough of this gloomy old house.

The empty and lonely surroundings at Eel Marsh House are starting to get to Arthur. Guess that's what happens when you're wandering around an ancient burial plot by yourself.

Behind me, out on the marshes, all was still and silent; save for that movement of the water, the pony and trap might never have existed.

Talk about the setting having an effect on a narrator. The marshy, creepy goodness of Eel Marsh House adds to the tension that we feel as Arthur goes exploring.

"I wouldn't have left you over the night," he said at last, "wouldn't have done that to you."

Even though Keckwick's taciturn and not really all that friendly, Arthur is delighted to see him again after being left alone at Eel Marsh House. We bet Keckwick knows a thing or two about isolation.

I sat up paralyzed, frozen, in the bed, conscious only of the dog and of the prickling of my own skin and of what suddenly seemed a different kind of silence, ominous and dreadful.

Being alone offers Arthur zero consolation. It actually makes the whole thing worse. This is not a peaceful old Victorian house in a children's book; it's a creepy old Victorian house in a ghost story. Two totally different things.

And then, with an awful cry of realization, I knew. There was no visitor—or at least no real, human visitor—no Keckwick.

Even Arthur's visitors are ghostly, and a ghost just can't offer the same warm hand of friendship that a real, live human can. Even Keckwick.

there was only emptiness, an open door, a neatly made bed and a curious air of sadness, of something lost, missing, so that I myself felt a desolation, a grief in my own heart

Even the house feels lonely. This is a fun literary device called pathetic fallacy, where inanimate objects take on human emotions to set a mood. You know, like when the sky is weeping or the sun is smiling. The more you know!

I must have a candle, some light, however faint and frail, to keep me company.

The emptiness of the house is so eerie that even a candle would count as company right now. Extra points if it sings and dances.

I ran as I have never run before, heedless of my own safety, desperate to go to the aid of the brave, bright little creature who had given me such consolation and cheer in that desolate spot.

Spider is pretty much Arthur's only companion now, so obviously he wants to save her more than anything. How very noble.

I felt a second of pure despair, alone in the middle of the wide marsh, under the fast-moving, stormy sky, with only water all around me and that dreadful house the only solid thing for miles around.

A lonely guy in a lonely house in a lonely marsh... we are so glad we're not in Arthur's shoes right now.